


The Blind Leading the Blind

by Sjukdom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dark, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim couldn't say, when exactly he crossed this thin line, stepping into the darkness, where burned the darkest fires. He took the final step, because walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blind Leading the Blind

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so feel free to tell me about any mistakes :)

_**Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.** _

Jim couldn't say, when exactly he crossed this thin line – the line of light, spilling from the semi-opened door of a cabinet, the stripe of sunlight in the air, filled with floating dust's specks, the transparent shadow of a flame in the fireplace, dancing on the walls. Near the icy waters of the river, where he touched Oswald for the first time? The wind was biting there, filling his lungs with coldness, crawling under his skin and holding Oswald was like holding a small candle fire – weak and trembling, but nonetheless full of warmth and life. Jim had a strange urge to hold him longer, to heat up his freezing body, but remembered that Harvey was still there behind them and let Oswald go. However, he didn't dare to extinguish this flame – _couldn't_. Jim still felt this warmth, chasing away the coldness around him. He pushed Oswald into the water, sure that no liquid could put out his fire.

He felt strange afterwords. Warmth spread slowly through his body, leaving the dew's drops of sweat on his skin, tasting like sweet warm water of summer's creek in his mouth, concentrating deep in his gut. Jim remembered clearly every small thing about that day, about Oswald – the smoothness of his pale skin, the smell of his thin light hair, feeling like strings of black spiderweb under his fingers, his rapid breath, visible as small clouds in the frozen air. They met again in Jim's apartment and Jim couldn't resist the desire to touch him again. Oswald again seemed to be frightened, but, looking into his eyes, where he saw the flickers of that inner flame of his, Jim had to admit that there was strange calmness. And strange knowing as if Oswald could see right through him into his deepest thoughts. There was a weird unity between them, when Jim pressed him to the wall, feeling the closeness and warmth of his body – now it was no candle, it was a fire, bigger and stronger, able to resist the wind and the rain. It wouldn't go out in a moment and Jim felt that he was the one who helped this fire to rise.

Oswald seemed thin and fragile, smaller than he was, vulnerable with this bad leg of his and, however, tough enough to survive and come back to Gotham, where he was in constant danger. This difference fascinated Jim. Grabbing Oswald this time felt so intense he had to stay outside a bit longer after Oswald left to catch his breath. Jim couldn't help imagining how it would be to hold him in a different situation, not intimidatingly, not aggressively. He was alarmed by such thoughts and tried to put them away, but they came back again and again, restoring like a flame after a weak blow of wind. That night he slept badly, seeing vivid dreams and waking up constantly only to find that he had the first wet dream in years. Glad, that no one could see his burning cheeks in the darkness, Jim went to the bathroom, shivering from the sticky wetness in his underwear. Sweating, damped in his own semen, he looked in the mirror as if trying to make himself think rationally, but instead he had only one urge – to see Oswald again, as soon as possible. Warmth – no, _heat_ – twisted and turned inside him, like dry and pleasingly scratchy tentacles, making the arousal stay. It was like Oswald breathed in him some of his fire and now it was flaring up.

Maybe he took the final step behind the trail of daylight into the darkness, where burned the darkest fires, when he sought for Oswald the next day? Like a moth, Jim craved for flame, but flame found him itself. Oswald caught him up at some abandoned crossroad, stepping out of shadows, wearing that knowing smile on his face. Jim didn't remember clearly, how it was, who was the first to move – what was before, a moth longing for flame or flame attracting a moth? They somehow ended up in a corner, stinking of piss and gasoline, holding on to each other rather clumsily – then Jim was afraid to break in half the frail creature he hugged and Oswald seemed to be new to the concept of hugging at all. The stink, the road noises, the drunken screams were forgotten as Jim touched the lips of Oswald with his own, unsure at first, scared of Oswald jerking in surprise, but then he returned him the kiss, sliding his silky tongue into Jim's mouth. The kiss was wonderful, scalding, tasting hot and gingery and Jim thought that if this was the feeling moths got when burning to ashes, then he understood completely why they flew right into the flames.

The line was crossed, leaving the world of sunlight behind him, but Jim didn't miss it much. There he was completely, utterly alone after Barbara left him and cold pale sun made him see his solitude so clear it hurt his eyes. Here and now, walking blindly in the darkness and catching the glimmer of black flames, he had another blind to lead him. He never met Oswald in daytime – too high was the risk to be discovered – but nights belonged to them. 

There were always different places – abandoned flats and closed apartments, dusty attics and wet basements – places, which no-one would call romantic, but in darkness they all looked the same. Jim got used to them fast and sometimes only the smell of another uninhabited room filled his stomach with heat, making his cock twitch. In this darkness he was not alone – he felt Oswald immediately as he stepped inside, like an animal. He saw only dim silhouette of him, but semi-blindness didn't really matter. Finally, there was his hands around him, his mouth pressed to his own, his hair tickled Jim's face and he was full hard even before they started to put their clothes off. Oswald was everywhere – his saliva in Jim's mouth, his erection rubbing at his thigh, his fingers running down his back. Jim smelled dust, heard the rustle of tiny spiders' legs in the corners – blind ones had a good hearing, right? Oswald got down on his knees, slowly, nuzzling his belly and then his cock before unzipping him. Sometimes a passing car's headlights illuminated them for a couple of moments, letting Jim see the drops of pre-cum on his cock and Oswald liking them off gently with his tongue. 

Jim closed his eyes, but nothing changed – the same gloom filled with his hard breathing and wet noises, with Oswald moaning softly around his cock, sucking lightly at first to get the feel of it and then taking it deeper, making Jim grunt and hold his head tight. Oswald's mouth was steaming hot, his tongue went over every pulsating vein, pushing Jim to the edge and then over the edge as he came trying not to shriek. He went down to the floor, breathing hard, clutching Oswald's face with both hands and kissing him deep, tasting his own come on his lips. Oswald responded eagerly to his every touch as Jim studied his body with his fingers and mouth – thin collarbones, hard nipples, the delicate skin of his thighs and his rock-hard cock, exploding after a few moments of caress. They laid on the dirty floor, half-dressed and breathless, looking like pale ghosts in the darkness. Only they were alive – more alive than they were before they met.

They were ghosts, haunting empty places, they watched each other with closed eyes, hiding under the lids the light of shared flames, they were blind but walked forward, clinging to each other, feeling instead of seeing, leading each other no one knew where. Day came and the sun spilled its feeble light upon them but at night they burned brighter than thousand suns. They were in a great danger. And they were more happy than they ever been.


End file.
